


Long Forgotten Self

by RiYuYami



Series: Pulling Strings [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, Henry finds his voice recording, Takes place after level 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiYuYami/pseuds/RiYuYami
Summary: Sometimes a voice from the past hits too close to home, and that's all you really need.





	Long Forgotten Self

**Author's Note:**

> Again, like my Mind Games one-shot, this is from an au I have on one of my tumblrs based on batim, but with names changed to be correct for this fandom
> 
> This is also related to Mind Games, in fact, it takes place during that story.

Henry rubbed at his eyes, trying to stop himself from crying. It's just... it was... oh God, what had he done...?

He looked at the axe in his hand as he trudged through the thick ink. It was still coated in the ink of… of…

“Norman…” Henry swallowed the lump in his throat, it was better this way. The Projectionist, Norman, did not deserve to keep living such a painful existence, in this twisted studio.

The guilt was going to eat at the poor animator though, just another nightmare he would be having for years to come, to remind him of what he's done...

Sighing, Henry made his way back to the elevator, about to climb the steps, when he noticed an area he had seen before, no longer blocked off by wooden boards. A little part of him wanted to explore, but he was too tired to really care. He just wanted to leave and go home, he was tired of this whole 'visit'.

Making his way up to the platform, he was surprised to find that Boris wasn’t there, nor was the elevator. Frowning, Henry pushed the call button, adjusting the bag “Alice” had given him, hearing the fleshy shifting of the hearts inside of it. He couldn't wait to give her the bag, never to see it or use it again, he was so tired of carrying it around and filling it with whatever stupid items she told him to get.

The elevator descended and a worried Boris was inside. “Henry! You’re okay…! Oh, are ya… cryin’?”

“Nah, just… got ink in my eye.” The human mumbled. “What’s up? Why were you on another floor?”

“Someone activated the elevator, an' I went up ta level eleven! I dunno who dun it, maybe one o' those monsters hit it by accident?”

“Probably. Come on, let’s get going.” Henry moved to push the button to rise up, but the doors closed and the elevator began to rise. “What the hell…?”

“It’s doing it again!” The wolf yelped, clinging to his companion. “It’s a ghost!”

“I doubt it.” Henry sighed, patting his friend’s face. The lit up button stated they were going to level P. A little voice in the back of Henry’s head told him that there was something beyond what he had explored on that floor that he needed to see.

When the elevator stopped at level P, Henry stepped out, telling Boris to remain behind, he needed to see something…

Axe in hand, Henry stepped out towards the lobby, seeing the inky writing on the wall, with the broken remains of a Bendy cutout on the floor. He stepped over those and went through the open door.

Why was he going this way? The voice in his head told him he had to go to the room sunken in ink, there was something there for him.

How did he know this?

And why go to a room that was flooded with so much ink?

Shaking his head, Henry walked into the hall, shocked to find that the hall was drained of its ink. When… did that happen? He didn’t turn any valves to do that. Was it “Alice"? Did Boris do something?

... Joey?

Tightening his grip on the axe, Henry walked down the steps, now mostly cleaned of ink, finding a small room.

There was a table in the room, with a bucket of ink on it, a book with a drawing of Bendy on the cover, and… an audio log.

Frowning, the old animator looked it over, there was something… weirdly familiar about it. Something he couldn’t quite place…

Pushing the button, he heard a soft, young, tired voice echoing in the room.

A voice from over thirty years ago, long since gone with age…

**“** _Only two weeks into this company, and already its gotten interesting. Joey is a man of ideas, and only ideas._

_When I agreed to start this whole thing with him, I though there’d be a little more give and take._

_Instead I give, and he takes. I haven’t even seen Linda for days now. Still, someone has to make this happen. When in doubt, just keep drawing Henry. On the plus side, I got a new character I think people are going to love._ **”**

Henry stared at the recorder, gently setting it back down on the table as he sighed softly.

Over thirty years ago, he and Joey had the idea to own an animation studio.

Together, they achieved this, and Henry was living his dream. So early into his career, he created his greatest masterpiece. A little demon who had the biggest, happiest smile one could muster, with a playful outlook on life, ready to prank and tease anyone in his way, a dance in his feet and a song in his soul.

The audio began again with a push of a button.

He felt hot tears run down his cheeks as he listened to himself speak once more, his tired, but optimistic voice continuing to echo in the stained room.

“You were going places, Henry…” He mumbled, “then your dreams were crushed and stolen from you… and look what happened to them. Your greatest achievement is falling apart, and your masterpiece wants you dead… this isn’t what you wanted at all, you just wanted to make people happy…! Damnit!” He slammed his fists down hard on the table, making it rattle its contents for a second.

He closed his eyes, dropping to his knees as he folded his arms on the table, crying into them. Henry wasn't one to cry, it's been a long time since he's done this, but sometimes... even a strong willed person has their limits.

He just… he needed this, this moment to cry, all the stress, the emotional build up, everything, he needed to let it out now.

Joey use to tell him that he could be too emotional for his own good sometimes.

He gasped hard into his arms, trying to hold back a sob, the audio track long since went silent.

Gently, someone started to rub his back, a quiet, soft voice shushing him, as if to tell him that it will be okay, to let it all out.

Henry sniffed, trying to swallow, before he realized he wasn’t alone in the room. Gasping, he turned around, finding that…

There was no one in the room with him. All that was in the room with him was fresh ink, pooled on the floor, left behind from the draining most likely, and the contents of the table.

“…” He looked around before standing on wobbly legs. He rubbed at his eyes again and bit his lip.

“T-thank you… whoever let me hear this… I needed it.”

There was no reply except the dripping of ink. He shook his head gently and started up the stairs, he needed to go home now.

**Author's Note:**

> Who was the one comforting him? Same stranger who broke the boards and found the valve to drain the room.
> 
> You can try and guess who it was.


End file.
